The Starlight Club: The Starlight Club (Mystery Mob Series Book 1)

by Joe Corso

  Trenchie locked the car and the couple walked across the street and stepped into the completely renovated bar. The mirrors were up, the vending machines were replaced, and liquor bottles were back on the shelves. Even the area above the bar, the custom built egg crate contraption that held all of the glasses the bartender used for the various drinks orders, was restored to its original look, once again suspended from the ceiling. The damaged walls had been repaired and painted, and the place looked better than it ever had. Red was seated at his usual corner table with his back to the wall. Trenchie introduced Mary to him. She was beautiful and he was proud of her. For a day that started off so lousy, it turned out pretty good. He would never understand how the universe works. When he left this morning to do some shopping, his motive was to give himself a mental boost. He was a lost and bitter man and now here he was with a beautiful woman on his arm. His face might not be telling the story, but his insides sure were. He felt alive again. He felt resurrected.

  Red asked how they met and Mary gave the damsel in distress story of how Trenchie had rescued her. This surprised Red. He put his head back and let out a hearty laugh. Mary was confused. “What did I say that was so funny?” she asked innocently.

  “It’s not what you said, honey. It’s Trenchie. I can’t believe you. Wasn’t this morning enough for you? You had to go one better. Well, at least this time you came home with the prize.”

  “Why? What happened this morning?” she asked.

  Red responded, “Four guys wrecked the place this morning and Trenchie surprised them in the midst of it.

  “Oh my God, were you hurt?” she asked.

  Trenchie gave Red a look as if to say, don’t go there.

  “Nah, they were just kids up to mischief and I just shooed ‘em out of here.”

  Mary didn’t quite believe him, not after hearing of the damage they caused, but she didn’t pursue it. She didn’t think he would answer anyway. Trenchie seemed shy when talking about himself and she thought that was sweet. That was an endearing quality.

  Red excused himself from his guests, walked to the kitchen, and instructed the chef to prepare a special feast for his guests. He then headed back to the table and instructed Trenchie and Mary not to order anything - his chef was preparing something different, something off the menu. Trenchie still needed to dress for dinner so he asked Red if he would mind entertaining Mary while he showered and changed his clothes. After about twenty minutes, Trenchie emerged wearing his new navy blue suit, so dark that it appeared almost black. The suit was beautifully tailored and fit him like a charm. Underneath was his new silk shirt and yellow Italian silk tie. He managed to comb his hair to hide the stitches. Trenchie looked different now. To Mary, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen. Trenchie felt a change in himself but couldn’t explain it. Well that wasn’t exactly true, he could explain it. Her name was Mary. Ever since he’d met her, he’d felt this change. The tension and despair had vanished from his body. The lines that were etched into his face seemed to fade back into the flesh, filling the crags and smoothing the wrinkles. It was instant youth. Yeah, that’s what it was - the feeling of being young and alive again. The lines that were still visible somehow seemed to add to his looks rather than detract from them. Ah, maybe it was just the suit. Maybe anyone would look good in an expensive suit like the one he was wearing. Whatever the reason, it worked for Trenchie.

  Trenchie was shaken out of his reverie when one of the waiters approached and mentioned to Red that his other guests had arrived. Trenchie stood, held out his hand for Mary, placing her between the two men where they both escorted her, one on each arm, to the front podium to greet Marco and Karen.

  Chapter Six

  Trenchie was in the anteroom sipping a steaming cup of coffee and reading the sports section of the daily news when Big Red and Frankie walked in. A young man tagged along beside them. He appeared to be in his late teens or early twenties. He was nursing a swollen lip, his eyes were black and blue, almost swollen shut, and his face was one large purple bruise. He’d been busted up pretty badly.

  “Little early for you guys, isn’t it? What’s up?” asked Trenchie.

  Red answered, “I got a call from Yip this morning. A couple of local kids had a problem and went to see him. Tommy is one of them,” pointing to the kid. “Some wise guys from Flushing came to Corona looking for trouble and they started leaning on our local boys. They wound up in Donny Brook. The bad news is that our guys were outnumbered and they got the worst of it. Look at his face,” he said pointing again to Tommy. “The good news is he knows where they hang out. Yip told me to have a talk with these guys and straighten things out . . . peaceably if possible.”

  Red continued. “Yip gave me the lowdown on this guy - Rags. He uses a lot of different drugs but his drug of choice seems to be cocaine. He has a big mouth anyway, but especially when he’s high. He’s been making a name for himself in Flushing. Thinks he’s strong because he has an entourage of healed wise guys for bodyguards. When we visit him, he’s gonna’ wanna’ look tough in front of his guys. I just hope he’s not high when we meet with him. I don’t like discussing business with people when they’re high. I just hope he has the good sense to leave me an out.”

  That’s all Trenchie and Frankie had to hear. They replied in unison, “I’m coming with you.”

  “Frankie is comin’ but, Trenchie, you’re staying here. Trench, you just got out of the joint so I don’t want you leaving this place. I’ll let you know what happened when I get back.”

  “Bullshit, I’m coming with you and don’t gimme any lip about it.”

  Red, seeing the futility in arguing with him replied, “All right . . . then let’s get this over with.”

  Tommy directed them to a pool hall on Northern Boulevard, a few doors from the old Keith’s movie theatre. Close by they found a metered parking spot on a side street and walked a short distance to the pool hall. Without hesitating, they all stormed right into the place, like cowboys in a Wild West movie. They were surprised to see how crowded the place was this early in the morning. Tommy nudged Red and tilted his head in the direction of a table in the far corner where four men were watching two others play a game of eight ball. Red softly asked Tommy if these were the guys. Tommy nodded.

  “There were a few more but that one there, far side, playing pool is the ringleader.”

  As Red and Tommy approached the table, all cue sticks went down and the game stopped. All six troublemakers stood defensively, leaning on their pool sticks.

  Red held his hands up and asked calmly, “Excuse me, who’s in charge here?”

  “Who wants to know?” the leader asked as he appraised the three fearless strangers.

  “My name is Red. What’s yours?”

  “I’m called Rags.”

  “Are you the guy in charge?” he asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “I own The Starlight Club in Corona. Tommy here works for me and I understand that you fellas had a little misunderstanding yesterday. I just came to see if we could straighten things out.”

  Rags was the head of the rag tag gang. It was unfortunate that Red had chosen this particular morning to pay him a visit. Rags had partied all night, celebrating the fight in Corona, and he was soaring from cocaine. Each person reacts differently to alcohol or drugs. Some become violent and others happy. With Rags, drugs removed all of his inhibitions, gave him a false sense of security along with that feeling of ‘power’- the one that removed any fear one might have. The drug made him unafraid of anything and anyone and extremely irrational and combative.

  “There’s nothin’ to straighten out. I know who you are and I gotta’ tell ya, you don’t look so tough to me,” Rags said, slurring his words a bit. “So don’t come here with your bitch Tommy because you don’t scare me. As for the fight last night, well, we like Corona so you can look forward to us visitin’ there more often.”

  Red looked at him and shook his head slightly as he said, “You shoul
d show a man like me a little more respect, Rags.”

  “You heard what I said.” Rags looked around at his friends through his cocaine-clouded mind for support but they were quiet, so he decided to use a stronger approach. And so he carried on, just challenging the men and smarting off, all the while emphasizing how he was going to take over their territory.

  Red continued talking calmly. It was becoming more and more impossible, it appeared, to work a deal. Rags was an irrational, high- on- drugs guy.

  Red persisted, “I’d like to walk out of here with an understanding. Look, let’s sit down and discuss this, if not now, then another time soon. I’m sure we can come to some sort of agreement. Don’t you?”

  Rags’ men could see that Red was trying to find a resolution and secretly, they were hoping Rags would snap out of it, come to his senses, and reach a damn agreement so everybody could go home. But the drugs had caused him to lose touch with reality. He felt not at all intimidated by these three pathetic bastards standing in front of him. Besides, he had his men close by. Rags continued his sarcasm and verbal assaults aimed right at Red who didn’t seem bothered by any of it.

  Red paused for a moment and reservedly said, “Maybe it would be better if I came back later when you sober up and you have a clearer head. We could talk then.”

  Rags looked around the room laughing and pointed to Red, “He wants to talk when I sober up. Look who’s copping a plea. Big Red groveling, lookin’ to make a deal. Well there is no deal. Now get your sorry ass out of here before we throw you out.”

  Rags’ men stood behind him, shaking their heads. They clearly didn’t want any part of this. Rags was way out of line and they knew it, but they didn’t know how to stop him. His friends cringed, as they knew the drugs had caused him to go too far. The men looked over at the three men opposite them. They knew it was too late. Rags had just crossed the line.

  Trenchie eyed Rags. He wanted to break him in half right there in the pool hall. Trenchie took a step toward Rags, but Red put out his hand out and shook his head as if to say no. Trenchie stopped.

  “Thanks for your time, Rags. Too bad we couldn’t come to an understanding. Take it easy boys. I’m sure we’ll see each other again soon.” Red smiled and he and his men left.

  After dropping off Tommy, Trenchie asked. “Who’s gonna handle this? Do you want me to do it?”

  Red thought a minute before answering.

  “No, I think I’ll give this to Ralph. It’s time he earned his keep. I’d do it myself but a lot of people saw me talking to him so I’ll need to be visible, have an alibi, when it’s carried out. Wait a minute. I just had my place renovated. I think I’ll have a grand reopening celebration. I don’t want this to drag on. Let’s plan on this for next Saturday. Okay that’s it then. That’s what we’ll do. We’ll have a grand reopening celebration. When Ralph comes in, tell him I wanna talk to him and then send Tex in to see me as soon as he gets in.”

  Tex wasn’t a familiar name to Trenchie so he asked, “Who’s Tex?”

  “He’s the most unlikely guy you’ll ever see in my joint. And the strangest person to ever be accepted by the guys. He’s a con man from Amarillo, Texas and he’s got a nice gig goin’. He’s just the guy I wanna’ see. As soon as he comes in, tell him to see me.”

  Not long after, Tex wandered in. Moose called him over and told him Red wanted to see him. Trenchie was in the room with Red when Tex joined them. He was a tall, thin man about thirty wearing blue Levis, light blue cowboy shirt with a black design at the shoulders, a black belt with a large silver buckle. On the buckle was a solid gold rider on a bucking horse. He wore a black Stetson with silver conches attached to the band at spaced intervals and he had on a set of shiny black cowboy boots. He looked like he’d stepped out of a rodeo and seemed out of place, but Trenchie figured if the guys accepted him, he must be okay.

  After introductions were made, Red asked Tex. “Are you still operatin’ out of your store on Roosevelt Avenue?”

  “Sure am partner. What can I do for you?”

  “My custom tablecloths with the Starlight Club logo on them will take about two weeks to get here. I need a complete setup for thirty tables sooner than that. That includes table clothes. Can you handle it?”

  “Sure, no problem. When do you want them?”

  “Today if possible.”

  He looked at Trenchie. “Care to take a walk partner?”

  As the two men walked the three short blocks to Roosevelt Avenue, Trenchie asked Tex about his operation - what it was, how long he’d been around.

  “I have a sweet deal, Trenchie. I started a business Made By The Handicap. The law doesn’t like me much and they chased me out of four of the five boroughs. Soon, I’ll have to leave Queens, so I’m planning to move my operation to Nassau County. What I do is legal, just barely, but still legal so they can’t arrest me, but they sure as hell make it difficult for me to operate.”

  They made a right on Roosevelt Avenue and walked under the el for another two blocks.

  Tex continued, “I buy plastic goods from a store in the city, Mott Street to be specific. Lemme ask you a question - if a handicap person approached you and asked you to buy a pencil from him for a quarter, or if it was raining outside and you could buy a raincoat for seventy-five cents, wouldn’t you buy it from him? Sure you would. That pencil costs me two cents, the raincoat seven cents. Everything I buy is plastic including tablecloths, napkin holders, raincoats, gloves, picture frames, seat covers and a hundred other items and I buy them all for pennies.”

  They entered a store with a sign painted above the door saying “MADE BY THE HANDICAPPED.” As they walked into the store, Trenchie counted thirteen sewing machines lined up against the wall like sentinels standing guard. Tex continued to explain. “I have thirteen sewing machines as you can see, but only one of them is operational and I check that machine every day to make sure it stays operational because if it ain’t workin’, I’m in violation of the law. So if an inspector asks for a demonstration, I use that one. If they’d stop harassing me, I’d have a few more of ’em fixed. I also have a handicapped person come in every day Monday through Friday and she inserts the various items in the proper plastic bags, then she staples a label over it that has MADE BY THE HANDICAPPED printed on it. Very professional and all perfectly legal. If the law decides to come into my store to check me out, they’ll see a handicapped person working hard to make a living. Do you want to be the one to say to a handicapped person you’re fired - that you can’t make a living when it’s already so difficult for a handicapped person to find work? The worker’s not doin’ anything illegal. What I do is legit. I’m in the process of expandin’. I have a guy in Texas who opened a store in Amarillo. I have buyers in Chicago, Dallas, Miami and a dozen other places all openin’ stores and I’m gittin’ hundreds of additional inquiries for stores every day. I buy cheap and I sell cheap. Just remember, Wrigley made a million selling gum for a penny. I want my customers to make a large profit so they’ll be motivated to stay in the business. I’m the only one who knows where to buy the merchandise, so they can’t go around me and buy elsewhere. I’m makin’ so much money now I don’t know what to do with it. I’m not even tryin’ anymore and the money keeps rollin’ in. The problem is even though the law can’t arrest me, they harass me to a fare thee well. I’ll have to move soon because they’ve given me notice. My lawyers are workin’ on it and they tell me that they can slow the process down but they can’t stop it. Now that I’ve started franchisin’, it’s all comin’ together nicely. If I can get another year out of this business, I’ll pocket millions and if I can keep it goin’ for another five years, then I’ll retire a very wealthy Texan. All this depends on whether the law can find a loophole and put me out of business before I retire with my ‘ill gotten legitimate’ gains. Let’s see now. Here we go, tablecloths.”

  You had to like this guy.

  Chapter Seven

  Trenchie called Mary and asked her if she would
like to accompany him to the grand reopening of Red’s Starlight Club. He explained that it wasn’t really a “grand” opening but Red called it that because he loved the way the place turned out with the renovations. He wanted a reason to celebrate and a “re”grand opening was the perfect excuse. Mary excitedly agreed to be Trenchie’s escort. Done. He would pick her up at six thirty. Marco and his wife Karen, their new friends, would join them at the bar for a glass of wine about a half hour later, then all four would have dinner around seven thirty. They were just a few of the people who received invitations to the special event. Red had sent invitations to everyone on his restaurant guest list. Many of the names were either impressive or well-known - popular actors, politicians, newspapermen and, yes a few gangsters.

  Red was all decked out, dressed in a sharp, black, pinstriped suit, matching silk shirt and coordinating tie. He was resplendent in his role as greeter, welcoming each person and couple at the front door the moment they entered the restaurant. One such couple was Trenchie and Mary. Trenchie asked if Karen and Marco had arrived and Red pointed to the bar where the two of them were seated. The big man patted Red on the arm in acknowledgement and together he and Mary walked off to join them. Trenchie motioned toward Red’s favorite table and suggested the four of them move there where everyone would be more comfortable without being disturbed.

  Trenchie and Marco enjoyed each other’s company. Marco with his outgoing easy personality, and Trenchie, quiet and sullen, seemed to bring out the best in each other. They were at ease discussing a wide variety of subjects. Trenchie, when prodded into speaking, was surprisingly knowledgeable in many areas. He attributed this to his voracious reading while working in the prison library. He didn’t have to be guarded around Marco. It looked like this friendship for all four of them might be a good thing. Karen could be a positive influence on Mary. She had money, class, and looks. Trenchie pretended not to notice but with his third ear, he listened as Karen discussed the latest fashions, giving Mary her recommendations on the best stores to shop. She suggested hair and nail salons. This was a whole new world for Mary. She had never had the kind of money for nails and regular hair maintenance and she didn’t know the first thing about their whereabouts. For her, Karen’s advice was invaluable. Karen’s prominent social status usually meant being surrounded by women Karen called “bitches with an attitude” - a “look what I just bought see if you can top that” attitude. It was refreshing to be with Mary who was down to earth with no hidden agenda. After a few get togethers, the girls discovered that they really enjoyed each other. The cross currents of each individual personality made it easier for the four of them to meet for dinner, attend the theater, or just hang out without the tension, uncertainty, or animosity that follows when one individual of the group doesn’t get along with another.